


Written in the Scars

by junko



Series: Chasing Demons [58]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Hangover, M/M, Original Character(s), Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:30:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya wakes up with a killer hangover and slowly comes to realize that he's made a horrible mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written in the Scars

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure there's any warning tag for what you'd call this moment, but head's up: Renji has a frank encounter with the tavern's landlord that might trigger. (It's strongly stated that the landlord consciously looked the other way.) It occurs at the beginning of Renji's section.

Byakuya woke up to a pounding hangover and a small infestation of Hell butterflies tickling his nose. Their frantic swirls were making him dizzy, so he batted them away long enough to try get his bearings.

Where was he? Byakuya’s eyes were so gummed up he could barely see. His tongue felt--furry?--and everything tasted of dust and rot. He had no idea where he was or who he was with. But, someone was snoring beside him, and their hot, heavy arm draped over Byakuya’s stomach familiarly.

It must be Renji. It was always Renji. With any luck, it would be this way forever: waking up with Renji. Though, it would be nice if at some point he’d bring back one of those nose things from the Human World to help with the loud snorting snores.

The butterfly wings tickled Byakuya’s nose again. He tried to run clumsy fingers through his hair only to discover he was still wearing the kenseikan. That was strange. Well, he supposed it was better than having tossed it aside casually to chip or, gods forbid, lose the wretched thing. However, its bony curves were so misaligned that they bit into the skin of his forehead hard enough that Byakuya worried there might be a bloody divot.

Wings insisted again, tickling Byakuya enough that he sneezed.

With a groan, Byakuya pulled himself upright to sit. The motion caused him to have to spend a few moments gripping his head between his knees, moaning. How much had he drunk? And, at what point had it all turned to stone in his head and acid in his stomach?

Byakuya steadied himself on the solid strength of Renji’s shoulder. When Byakuya’s fingers felt the silk of shihakushô, he opened his bleary, aching eyes to see Renji curled onto his side, half-covered by the top part of his uniform. His crimson hair in a jumble over his face and a… sequined pillow? Yes, there were little mirrored and embroidered pillows all over the low futon, as well as tucked in artful piles on the floor of a tiny, low-ceilinged room. Shiny, gauzy material was draped in billows as though to evoke a kind of tent or… Byakuya wasn’t sure, but it seemed a little tawdry in the breaking daylight. A tube labeled ‘eco-friendly, vegan, chocolate-flavored’ lube was discarded on the floor, and yet Byakuya seemed to be nearly fully-dressed if a bit rumpled. Dear gods, he was still even wearing the haori. It was horribly wrinkled… why hadn’t he taken it off? He must look a fright.

Four butterflies spun in front Byakuya’s nose, the jumble of their black wings making his stomach lurch.

“Yes, yes, what is it?” he snapped.

Suddenly a multitude of voices answered him. He had to slow them down, get the butterflies to arrange themselves in a kind of order of arrival or he was going to throw up. But, luckily, they were quick to obey his sharp command. Once lined up, he let them deliver their messages.

The first announced that it was from a very irate Fourth Seat wondering where her captain and lieutenant had skived off to for the entire day. The second was from Soi Fon sounding equally put out by the fact that she’d received several frantic messages from the Sixth Division accusing her of having arrested both of them. The third was from aunt Masama announcing her arrival at the Kuchiki estate. The fourth was a very, very panicked Eishirō announcing aunt Masama’s arrival a day earlier than expected at the Kuchiki estate.

Byakuya swore.

The sound of which roused Renji enough to ask, “Wha..? The apocalypse? Aizen?”

“Auntie Massey,” Byakuya explained.

“Ah, apocalypse,” Renji agreed, but rolled back over and closed his eyes.

Byakuya smiled. He was about to start answering the messages when Renji’s movement caused him to notice a dark rusty stain on the white fabric of Renji’s shitage that seemed to be streaked on Renji’s inner thigh as well. Blood? Byakuya told the butterflies to wait as he examined the stain further. For a brief moment, Byakuya’s addled mind couldn’t parse what he was seeing. How could Renji have gotten injured there? And, then Byakuya’s face flushed. There was only one answer. 

Him.

Byakuya must have done it.

He shook Renji’s shoulder frantically. “Renji, wake up. Something’s happened.”

‘Something’? No, _he_ ’d happened.

“What?” Renji blinked, “What time is it? What the…? Hey, there’s some kind of swarm of Hell butterflies in here.”

“Never mind that,” Byakuya said, suddenly feeling very sobered. He frantically tried to remember all the details of the night before; his stomach dropped as images started to return. Kidō. Damn it all, he’d used kidō on Renji again after all this time. Renji hated that. So, why? Why had Byakuya used magic? Was he afraid of something… of Renji? He remembered some kind of a struggle, but, no, he’d been the one doing all the pushing. “Renji, last night… you… I….” Byakuya was too mortified to say what he feared, so instead, he simply stated, “There’s blood in the bed. Why didn’t you use the safe word?”

Renji rubbed his face and pulled at the tangled curtain of his hair. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re injured.”

“No, I’m not,” Renji insisted.

“Please, I think you are,” Byakuya said, wanting to touch him, offer assistance, but not knowing how any more. “Look at your thigh, Renji. Look at your shitage.”

Renji sat up and peered between his legs, lifting himself out of the way, he curled almost all the way over to inspect his ass. “Oh, well, it can’t be serious,” he said after a moment of craning. “I mean: nothing hurts this morning.”

Byakuya’s eyes were wide with the implication, “But it hurt last night.”

Seemingly unconcerned, Renji sat back to prop his head against the wall. He flicked the folds of his shirts over to cover himself. Giving Byakuya a sidelong glance, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “What’cha looking for here, Byakuya? Because you know it did.”

Did he? He hadn’t until now, though now… now everything was coming back in a horrible rush. 

What he was looking for from Renji was simple in comparison, “Assurance,” he said. “What I want is assurance. Please tell me you’re alright.”

Crossing his arms behind his head, Renji stared up at the ceiling and said, “That’s going to make it better, huh? Yeah, I’m okay I guess. I got all my pieces, parts. But, you know what? Our safe word sucks. Let’s pick something a little more standout, like ‘ikebana’ or ‘ballerina’ because I don’t think you hear that word ‘stop’ like maybe you should.” He shook his head sadly. Pulling his arms down, he scratched at his belly, and then wrapped himself in a hug. “Speaking of, if no one’s ever mentioned it: you really shouldn’t drink and fuck.”

“No,” Byakuya agreed with a horror settling deep in his stomach. “No, I shouldn’t.”

Byakuya tried to read Renji’s face as Renji continued to look up at the gauze draped ceiling. They sat close enough that their shoulders touched, but Renji held himself close, as though unwilling to touch more than was necessary. 

“Did I…? Did.. you?” Byakuya wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to ask, so he settled on, “I mean, did you _say_ stop?”

“Kind of. Maybe. I don’t know,” Renji shrugged, like it was no big deal. But his body language said otherwise.

Byakuya turned to face him, and he reach a hand out to Renji’s thigh, “I’m—“

“No, stop right there, boyfriend,” Renji said, pulling away to swung his feet off the low futon. He twisted slightly to give Byakuya a hard stare. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry, because… it’s just not true, okay? If this had never happened before, it’d be different. Thing is, I kind of had to admit to myself I was into this humiliation and abuse after the library, but I don’t think you’ve had a moment like that—where you’ve had to face the truth about what exactly it is you’re into.”

‘Into’? Did Renji think that Byakuya enjoyed hurting him? Maybe--no, of course, there was a part of him that thrilled to see Renji available the way he could only be bound and tied down… but Byakuya didn’t really want to see him bloodied or beaten or truly hurt. No, having seen him that way once at the mercy of Senbonzakura was enough. “I never meant to injure you, you must believe me.”

Renji stood up. The ceiling was low enough that he had to stoop his shoulders. He batted away one of the gauze sheets. “I’m going to go take a piss and see if I can actually wear my hakama in public without looking like... ah, crap, where are my pants?”

He was leaving? But, they had so much they needed to talk about, so much Byakuya needed to apologize for. “Will you come back?”

“I don’t know. You know, maybe it’s best for us that I’m going out on assignment.” Renji frowned down at the stairwell, as he tied together the sides of his shirts. “Maybe we don’t need seminars. Maybe we need a clean break.”

A break? No, wait, how had they gotten this far already!? Renji couldn’t mean what he was saying. Byakuya pulled himself from the sheets, his limbs feeling heavy and unwieldy. “Renji… ? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Hunting around, Renji found his hakama and shook them out to inspect them. He stared at his pants as he talked, not meeting Byakuya’s desperate eyes. “I don’t know,” Renji said. “I just think maybe we could use a little time to sort things out. It seems like just when I start to feel comfortable with you, like maybe things are good, you feel the need to completely sabotage everything with your dominating crap.”

Was that it? Dear gods, had Byakuya pushed Renji away intentionally last night because things were getting too good? Was he still so afraid of loving this man that he’d rather push him down than hold him close?

Byakuya’s hands began to shake. It might have been the hangover, but Byakuya’s heart was pounding. He’d broken out in a cold sweat at the thought of the truth about what Renji was saying. “No, Renji, please wait. I know I’ve made a terrible mistake. I don’t know what came over me. I…”

“Look at this,” Renji snapped, holding up the hakama. There was a long tear at the side seam that nearly split the leg open. “What the fuck, Byakuya? Now I got to replace these. Do you even know how much that costs? The quartermaster makes me buy a whole new uniform every damn time. This is like, what, three? I’m out of money for this stuff. Shit, you know what? I wasn’t all that pissed off until now-- just sad--but goddamn you: you broke my fucking pants! What is wrong with you?”

Byakuya was standing now. It was more of a wobble, but he wanted to be closer to Renji, to make him stay, grab him if he tried to leave, force him to… No! What was he thinking? That would be the worst thing he could possibly do.

What was wrong with him? 

“I… I really don’t know.”

“Well, figure it out! I tried to help you take my hakama off, but no! I get spanked when I did that. Look at this,” he waved the hakama around again. “You didn’t have to do this, okay? This is what’s going to break me, you understand? I’m into the tying up. I’m even down with the creepy class shit… sometimes. I even decided it was okay for you to publicly humiliate me in front of my friends--your servants, whatever! But don’t fucking rip my shit up! I don’t have a lot of things! Do you understand me, Byakuya? I can’t replace stuff easily! I don’t have a goddamn seamstress on retainer, alright?”

“But….” Byakuya offered cautiously, “I do. I could have her fix them or replace--”

“That is not the point!” Renji made an inarticulate sound of rage. Then he started stomping into the hakama, only to end up with both legs in one section. He tossed them back on the floor with a frustrated huff and tried again. “Just because you can afford to fix or replace my stuff doesn’t give you the right to mess it up. It’s mine, Byakuya. You get it? Mine. I’m the one who gets to decide what to do with it, not you. This should be really simple. Why is this so hard for you to understand?”

“Are we… are we talking about your hakama?”

“What do you think?” Renji snarled, giving up on the complicated ties, he just grabbed most of the fabric into a ball at the front and hitched the hakama up at his waist. He looked ready to stomp off, but he sighed. “Thing is, we kind of are. This really bugs me, Byakuya. You didn’t have to rip my pants. I was up for the fucking. I was lifting my ass to make it easier for you to fuck me. I was even making a little joke about the all the seminar stuff about how I’d be happy to consent if you’d just fucking _ask_. It could have been a fun night. I could have been  really into it, not just… you know, making do. But, you wouldn’t even let me do one simple thing my way and now… now, fuck it, I got to buy new hakama and everything is wrecked.”

Was it? 

Did he really mean that?

“Everything?”

“Yeah, everything,” Renji said sadly. “Look, I really got to piss and I can’t think about this anymore. I’ll… see you before I leave.”

But… there were reservations for dinner for two. Tonight was supposed to be their last big date before Renji left. Byakuya had been planning to tell Renji his plans to appoint an heir, to take the pressure off them, so that they could finally… “Renji, please don’t go like this.”

Renji was already down the stairs and gone. 

Black iridescent wings flapped at Byakuya, twisting and turning in nauseating spirals, until his stomach finally rebelled and he threw up.

#

At least it was easy to piss with his hakama all fucked-up, Renji mused as he relieved himself on the far corner of the izayaka which had clearly been used by other patrons for the same purpose. Unfortunately, it was a lot harder to not expose himself once he was finished. He sighed. He really ought to start wearing underwear.

He was still working out if he could tie one section of the rip to another when he heard a throat clear. Looking up, Renji saw the landlord from last night. “Oh,” Renji said, glancing at the splash he’d made, he tried to kick a little dirt over it, “Hey, sorry about—“

The landlord was a small man, balding, who looked like he normally had deep smile lines, but his mouth was turned down in a deep frown. He shifted nervously from foot to foot. Finally, he coughed out, “You’re all right, then?”

Renji’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he blurted, “This is a fuck-all time to be worried about me, old man. Too busy counting your money last night, were you?”

As the landlord ducked his head and ran off, Renji heard him say, “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck all your apologies,” Renji muttered. Grabbing Zabimaru from where he'd propped the zanpakuto against the wall, Renji flash stepped back to the Sixth. 

He hadn’t really meant to bring up the money thing, but _damn_. That had been part of last night that Renji really didn’t want to think too hard about. A lot of people had gotten paid off in a way that really kind of turned Renji’s stomach. Not just that Byakuya had done it, but that people accepted it. Renji knew Byakuya wasn’t planning anything truly evil, but what did those people think they were getting paid for?

Since he had to hold on to the damn hakama leg, it took Renji twenty five minutes to make it back to the Division. The gate guards greeted him with a curious look. One of them gave him a crooked smile and glanced at his unbound hair and the ripped hakama, “Rough night, sir?”

“You could say,” he agreed noncommittally.

The first bit of decent luck was finding an extra pair of hakama at the bottom of his footlocker. They were supposed to be part of his dress uniform, but there wasn’t anything particularly special about them, except the lingering smell of rainy mold. He brought it to his nose, remembering the Hanami. That had been wonderful until Byakuya fucked that up too.

Or maybe Renji had fucked that one up.

It was getting hard to keep track.

After taking care of his usual toiletries and a quick meal in the mess, Renji decided to tackle work early. With any luck, there’d be a huge pile of overdue paperwork to plow through. 

The Fourth Seat, Nanako Imai, jumped up when she saw him at the door. Despite her usual stern demeanor, she looked ready to wrap him in a giant hug. “Oh, thank god you’re all right, sir. I thought Soi Fon had thrown you in the clink.”

Renji snorted a dark chuckle. “That’s the other Abarai.”

“Oh, right. Uh, how did it go?”

“Shitty,” he said, setting the tea bowl he’d brought from the mess down on the table. “Please tell me there’s a lot to do.”

“Oh, always, sir,” she smiled. “In fact, there’s a couple of things I have a question—“

Suddenly, there was a commotion in the yard. Renji turned just in time to see Kinjo flash up to the open doorway. “Head’s up, Renji,” he said in his scratchy voice, “Kuchiki auntie on the warpath!”

“Here? In the Division?”

Kinjo pointed a finger at Renji’s chest and a wide, wicked smile broke out on his craggy face, “Yep, and looking for you, big boy. I’m guessing she’s heard the news. She’s going to kill you.”

Shit.

Well, might as well face the music.

“Out of my way,” Renji said, pushing past Kinjo. He spotted the white-haired, indigo-and-silver kimonoed figure making her way across the dusty practice yard. Seasoned soldiers scattered from her slight figure, all but running for cover. Renji squared his shoulders and marched out to meet her. “Lady Kuchiki,” he bellowed when she was in view. “To what do we owe this honor? Can I arrange a tour of the division for yourself and your entourage? You need a voucher for the mess hall or something?”

“Very funny,” she sniffed. “At least my nephew didn’t choose a coward.”

Renji shrugged, “Nah, just an idiot.”

Yesterday’s wind had brought clouds this morning. The sky was overcast, but sun tried to peek through. The deep blue jewels dripping from the Lady Kuchiki’s hairpins strained to sparkle in the dim light.

The division seemed to be watching from a safe distance. All eyes were on the spectacle in the practice yard, but Renji doubted they’d be overheard.

Lady Kuchiki seemed to be trying to figure out Renji’s response for a while. But with a shake of her head that made the jewels clack, she asked, “How much?”

Had he missed some part of the conversation? “What?”

“How much money will it take for you to leave?”

Renji snorted, thinking about his assignment in the Human World. He’d be leaving in the morning, after all, and she didn’t say for how long she wanted him gone. And wasn’t this typical? A Kuchiki solving their problems with money. So, what the hell, he might as well ask: “How much you offering?”

“Ten million ken,” she said.

“Are you kidding me? One of his ugly kimono costs more than that. Does Byakuya know you’d sell him this cheap?” Renji delighted in the horror that twisted her face when he casually used Byakuya’s first name. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he looked down his nose at her and shook his head. “No, if you want to pay me off, it’s got to be property.”

Her face paled. “What?”

“I could live long enough to retire. It could happen,” Renji explained with another little shrug. It wasn’t likely, but some people did. “But, no way I can retire, if I don’t have somewhere to go inside the Seireitei. Even if I saved enough money, I’m barred from purchasing property on my own—something about not being of noble blood, see? So, you got to gift me a deed.” He could see auntie Masama start to consider her assets, so he raised a finger. “But, wait, there’s more. I want steady income, too. I want a piece of one of your enterprises.”

A deep blue silk fan materialized from one of the sleeves, and she fluttered it in front of her face despite the cool weather. “And… if such a thing were arranged, you would leave for good? Stay out of my nephew’s life entirely?”

“I guess it would depend,” Renji said honestly, though mostly it depended on Byakuya at the moment.

Aunt Masama searched Renji’s face for a long time. “I see. I didn’t expect you to be so… reasonable. We should retire to the estate if you’re serious about this. Business is best done over tea. Tell me, Lieutenant Abarai, is this what you’ve been after all along?”

“No, ma’am,” he said offering her his arm, even though he knew she’d refuse it. He started in the direction of the back gate that would lead them to the estate grounds. “It really wasn’t my plan to fall in love. Some days, I kind of wish I could take it back.” 

#

Byakuya was having the worst day of his life. It was far worse than the day his father died. Worse than the one when he’d learned of Yoruichi’s defection, and even, possibly, nearly as bad as the day he lost Hisana. 

The problem was his stomach. He couldn’t get it under control enough to shunpō. So, after a deeply humiliating moment of being discovered in Yoruichi’s secret boudoir vomiting into a corner and having to pay an exorbitant fee to cover ‘cleaning,’ Byakuya was walking.

And now it was starting to rain.

Byakuya was finding it difficult to keep his head up. Between the kenseikan that seemed to defy his every attempt to rearrange it and his hangover, Byakuya just wanted to bow his head and sob. It didn’t help that all he could think about was Renji. 

Renji hadn’t come back. 

Byakuya hadn’t expected him to, but… he’d hoped. He’d hoped beyond all reason that Renji could find it in his heart to forgive his reckless stupidity. 

But he might have finally done it. Byakuya might have finally pushed things too far. The ironic part was that… he’d done so much worse sober. The alley should have been unforgivable, and the library and all the other moments that Byakuya had purposely struck out in an attempt to bring Renji to heel. But, Renji had weathered all that. They’d managed to come through it all only be undone… by pants.

Obviously, it was more than that. The ripped hakama were the proverbial straw to a camel that had borne much mistreatment. Byakuya couldn’t pretend he truly understood why they’d become the focus of Renji’s rage, but he got the message nonetheless. 

Renji might leave him. At the very least, he was going away angry and hurt.

Byakuya couldn’t let this happen. He’d have to beg. Get down on his knees. Anything.

When thunder rolled overhead, Byakuya decided he’d simply have to risk high-speed projectile vomiting. He couldn’t waste any more time. He had to talk to Renji. 

#

When Eishirō announced Byakuya’s arrival, both Renji and aunt Masama rose to their feet. Renji was a little shocked at the sight of Byakuya when the door slid open. He was still in his uniform, only the haori was spattered with… mud, at least. His hair was a mess and the kenseikan was slipping from his hair. Instead of his usual calm, collected demeanor, he rushed into the room and grabbed Renji around the waist. Collapsing into him, Byakuya whispered, “Oh, thank fate, you haven’t left yet.”

“We were just negotiating that,” Aunt Masama said coolly. “I believe we’ve settled on two acres of farmland in Seireitei and the deed to one of our teahouses in the Rukongai.”

Byakuya lifted his head from Renji’s shoulder, but he didn’t let go. Renji could smell the sick on his breath and the soft smell of his hair. It reminded Renji of that first night he’d brought Byakuya back here. 

Byakuya glared at his aunt. “What are you talking about?”

“Your… man. He’s agreed to leave for a price.”

Renji could feel Byakuya’s breath quickening and see the blood drain from his face. But, he continued to stare at Masama. “You lie.”

“You own four teahouses,” Renji said quietly. He reached up a finger to smooth one of Byakuya’s errant locks, but stopped himself. “Four.”

Byakuya turned to look up at Renji, their faces inches apart. Byakuya’s eyes were shockingly tremulous, open… afraid. “Yes. One in each quadrant,” he said. “I inherited them along with everything else. That’s how I met Hisana. I thought you knew.”

Renji shook his head. “I hear they turn a tremendous yearly profit.”

“They do. They account for twenty percent of our wealth,” Byakuya agreed. “Do you want them all? Do you want me to destroy them? Renji, they don’t matter to me. You do.”

“It’s no wonder you treat me like you do,” Renji said, finally giving in to the urge to fix Byakuya’s sodden strands. His fingers traced along beloved contours of Byakuya's face slowly, regretfully. “Have you ever had a relationship with someone you didn’t own?”

“Stop it!” Aunt Masama snapped. “You may not speak to Lord Kuchiki that way.”

Byakuya’s voice was quavering as he snapped, “Stay the hell out of this!”

Shocked, she took in a sharp breath and a step back.

Byakuya was clutching Renji’s shihakushô desperately. “No, I haven’t,” he said honestly. “My first lovers were servants, bound to obey my every whim or face exile or worse. There were a few minor nobles, but they all owed the Kuchiki family some debt. Hisana was an orian, whose love and devotion I bought until I married her. You are my soldier. I’ve never known the love of an equal.”

Renji felt that like a stab in his heart. “But you have. You just don’t see me that way.”

Byakuya took in a hiss of breath, as if just as hurt by his mistake. “I… you’re right, Renji. I haven’t, but please let me try.”

Renji had to admit he’d never heard Byakuya utter so many ‘please’s in one day. But, he found he was shaking his head. “I’m going tomorrow,” he said, “Maybe when I come back.”

A sob escaped Byakuya’s mouth. He closed his eyes and bowed his head until it fell against Renji’s shoulder. Renji felt the hot wetness of tears through the silk. “I’m so sorry,” he was saying. “Please forgive me.”

Renji’s fingers entwined in Byakuya’s hair, automatically working out the snarls that had gotten caught in the kenseikan’s chains. “This thing,” Renji said softly, as he worked loose the familiar clasp, “It always gets in the way.”

“It does,” Byakuya murmured into his shoulder. “That’s why I’m determined to get rid of it. Will you take me back if I never wear it again?”

Renji gently twisted free a clump of snarls. “Don’t say stuff like that, Byakuya. You know you can’t just give it up.”

Byakuya finally pulled his face from Renji’s shoulder. Tears streaked down his face. “I was going to surprise you with this tonight at dinner. I have plans to appoint an heir. Once he’s invested, I’d be freed from the responsibility to reproduce. I won’t have to remarry right away. Or, I could, in fact, eschew marriage altogether and we could be together… forever.”

Renji’s heart leapt at the idea. He always thought he’d have to step aside for a wife some day. But… this was too much, too soon. So he concentrated on fixing the kenseikan. He carefully slid the side part of the hairpiece back into place over Byakuya’s ear, and straightened the locks of hair that jutted from the back of it. “But,” he said carefully. “What good is that going to do us, if things don’t change?”

Byakuya scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his knuckles like a boy. “Perhaps I can’t change, but I sincerely want to try,” he begged. “Can I… can I write you letters while you’re away? Can I… can I court you properly?”

Renji snorted a laugh. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Will you let me show you?”

The front part of the kenseikan slid back into place easily under Renji’s command. “Yeah, okay,” he said, kissing the red mark the bone-like piece had left on Byakuya’s forehead. After re-fastening it in the back, Renji kissed the tears from Byakuya’s cheeks. When Byakuya leaned in to try to kiss Renji’s lips, Renji put a finger on Byakuya’s mouth gently to stop him. “No promises, but, yeah, you can try.”

“Well, then,” came a cold little huff from aunt Masama. “ _Our_ deal is off.”

**Author's Note:**

> Auntie fireworks to follow. 
> 
> This may be the official end of this series. The soap will continue, but this seems like a natural conclusion for this particular arc. They're broken up, but with a tinge of hope remaining. I'm going to call the next series the same as the title of this one: 'Written in the Scars' so look for the newest installment under that series name. I may also note in the summary that the new story continues this one.
> 
> I hope this satisfies those of you who wanted to see some real remorse from Byakuya and Renji sticking to his guns. In my opinon, Byakuya still has a long way to go, but I think he's actually ready work on things now. Thanks to all of you who stuck it out through the heartbreak.
> 
> And a huge thank you to Josey (cestus) who held my hand, put up with my whining, embarrassing typos, and was an excellent sounding board and cheerleader throughout most of this series!
> 
> To continue with the never ending soap, begin the series: "Written in the Scars (of Our Hearts)"'s first installment here: <http://archiveofourown.org/works/772726>


End file.
